Threads of Fate

Chapter 1 ~ The Disadvantages of a Crown

    The chamber was overwhelmingly quiet and all together too loud. A quill was scratching against a piece of parchment to Azael's left, the sound so dry that he cringed to think of touching the paper with his bare fingers.

    From somewhere down the table, a foot was thumping periodically. Small flames towards the end of their life crackled upon a grated hearth, the wood that fed them already crumbling to ash. A light rain that had been present all day still pattered against the window panes.

    Azael glanced at the King's seat from the corner of his eye, suppressing his own need to fidget. He clasped his hands together, waiting for his father to meet his gaze, but King Mavron barely even seemed aware of where he was. No surprise.

    Azael's lips thinned at the sight of the King's far-reaching gaze, the same look that he'd worn for the past two-hundred and twenty-seven years. Not present. Disinterested. Utterly uncaring about the matters being discussed around him.

    The scratching stopped and Azael returned his gaze to the councilman as he set his quill aside. "I'll have these orders sent to the Isle as soon as our business is concluded," the councilman said to him. "And lastly, there's the matter of the Aerstar celebration."

    Azael's brows pulled together. Now this was a topic that interested him. Something was off about their plans this year. Usually, he and his father would travel to the Library of Drenusha to observe the traditional rites that had been in practice since the goddess Drenusha Ascended an Age ago.

    They should've left days earlier if they were going to make it to the Library on time, but he had been told not to prepare for the journey. Perhaps he would find his answers now. "What about it?" Azael prompted, realizing the councilman was waiting to be addressed.

    "I assume the King told you of this year's change in plans?"

    Azael looked back at his father. Mavron's empty blue eyes drifted to mirror his own, but the King remained silent. "No, I haven't been informed of any changes, except that we wouldn't be going to the Library. But Aerstar is tomorrow. A little late to be changing tradition."

    "The plans have already been seen to." Azael almost flinched at the unexpected sound of his father's voice, and the Fae gathered around them shuffled nervously, pretending not to be just as astonished as him. "We're hosting a ball. The priestesses will arrive tomorrow and oversee the religious rites throughout the day, and the ball will be held in the evening."

    "Why wasn't I informed?" Azael asked.

    "Because you are not the King."

    Azael slid his hands off the table and hid his clenched fists within his lap, pasting a void expression across his features. No, he was not the King, but that didn't change the fact that he'd been the one attending to most of his father's duties for nearly three centuries. "Is there a particular reason for this change?"

    His father didn't deign to give him a response. King Mavron slouched back in his chair with a dismissive flick of his hand, his gaze vacant once more. The councilman cleared his throat and answered for him. "A variety of reasons, your Highness, as I understand, but most prominently, I believe it is in the priestess's hopes that you and Lady Tissaia will come to an arrangement?"

    "Is Aerstar really the best time to be discussing that?" Azael remarked carefully. "It's one of our most holy and ancient traditions. Not a time for such trivial matters."

    "I'm merely repeating what I've been told. But of course, the matter is ultimately up to you and Lady Tissaia's discretion."

    "Hm. So, there's a ball and religious rites tomorrow, and some plans to be sent to the Isle of Lorn today. Am I missing anything?"